The Power of Justice
by Sero Dace
Summary: Harry Potter/DC-Justice League. The Power the Dark Lord knows not has nothing to do with Magic. After an unfortunate turn at the Department of Mysteries, Fate tries to fix it, by offering Harry a better chance at fulfilling his Destiny.
1. Prologue: Dr Fate

He was surrounded by an endless black void.

It was cold.

There was no air.

Yet, he did not need to breath.

Confusion.

Where was he?

What had happened?

Vague flashes projected in his mind.

The insane cackling of a crazed woman.

Beams of red, blue and green light, interspersed with sickly orange and red.

A slash of purple flames.

The scent of burned flesh.

Bloodshot eyes in a gaunt face.

Black robes.

White masks.

Ugly, almost reptilian like, winged horses.

Pain.

Fear.

Determination.

A familiar silky voice.

A cane with a silver serpent head.

Rows upon rows of hundreds, no thousands, of orbs, all with a faint bluish white glow in their core.

A.P.W.B.D.

Pops and cracks of displaced air.

A whirlwind of people, voices and shouts.

Incantations.

A whirling blue eye.

Pink hair.

Blood…

Dripping from wounds.

Sirius!

No!

A stunner…

Then the veil, voices from behind it.

His hand…

Reaching through…

Then everything black.

And here he was.

No pain.

At least that is good.

In fact…

It was amazing how great he felt, after more than a year of permanent headaches and lack of sleep.

But…

There didn't seem to be anything that could hurt anymore.

He did not see anything.

He did not feel anything.

Remus whispering Sirius was gone… dead.

He had followed nevertheless.

Was he dead as well?

That thought didn't scare him.

His parents.

Sirius.

Serenity.

Peace.

Silence.

A silence broken as voices echoed through the void. Like so often in his life, he appeared the be the subject. Like so often, naturally, he was not involved.

"It is not yet his time."

"He should not be here."

"He can not stay here."

"He can not go back."

"He has a Purpose, a Destiny."

Serenity was not to last, apparently, as he could hear the capital P and D.

Naturally.

"He must go back."

Like so often, he didn't have a choice.

Naturally.

He didn't want to go back. His parents and Sirius was here. Back there, was only Voldemort. Granted, his friends, too. But it was better if they weren't near him… that is, if they survived the night.

"He came through the Veil. We can't simply send him back."

"I agree. But he must fulfil the Prophecy."

Wait. Prophecy? Well, he now knew there was one, but still no one had bothered to explain it to him. Dumbledore probably knew… Some things started to make sense now. But he still wanted to hear what it was about. He was tired of being left out of the loop. To have no choices in his life.

"He also has to acquire and train the Power the Dark Lord knows not."

"He must find a way back and learn that power at the same time."

"Where can we send him?"

Power? What is this power? And he didn't want to go back!

"I shall take him."

At those words, the Void became less dark, filling with a faint golden glow. The glow revealed a circle of people standing… or floating around him. All of them were facing one man. At least, he thought it was a man, it was a bit difficult to tell. A golden mask his face. A blue uniform covered his body, adorned by a golden cape. He assumed this man had spoken last.

"Yes. Your universe offers plenty of possibilities."

"I agree, but we, including you, cannot directly interfere with Destiny."

Again, the capital D. He wanted to shout, to scream, but he had no voice. He had no body to create a voice…

"There are those in my Universe that I can trust him to. They have powers. They can teach him the Power the Dark Lord knows not. And he can find a way home through mine. It will not be easy, but it is possible. And necessary, if he is to fulfil the Prophecy and survive."

He really started to dislike all those capital letters, all concerning him. But, if he had to go back at all, this definitely sounded like a better offer than tossing him back to people that always kept him in the Dark… or were most unable to teach. He would have coughed a certain name of a Professor here, had he possessed a voice right now.

"You are right", the other voices chorused.

"It will be done." Once more, in chorus. It was quite creepy.

As one, they all turned towards him, surrounding him, before the golden masked person spoke.

"Harry James Potter. It is not your time. You have a Destiny. One that is too important to let you stay here. You must go back and fulfil it. However we can not send you back, due to the unique way you arrived on this plain. There are laws and limits, even here. You are also not ready, even if it was possible."

The man paused, the white eyes in the mask glowing lightly, and gazing almost into his soul, as if judging him.

"You have potential, a lot of it. There is not much we can reveal, nor can we help you directly. Intervening in these matters is forbidden. So we will bring you to a new place. A place where you can learn, where you can grow strong, to one day fulfil your destiny and finally get the peace you deserve, the life you chose. A place that not only will you benefit from, but where you may prove to be a benefit to as well. You do not have to hide who or what you are there. Just follow your heart. And once you are ready, you will find a way to travel to your home, to deal with this Dark Lord that is your destiny."

Harry was stunned. That was his destiny? Somehow, he had always known. He should have known, at least. He also realized he was woefully unprepared. If he had to defeat Voldemort, stunners would not help much. Nor would failed Occlumency classes do much. But did he really want to? He didn't seem to have much of a choice. There was only one real choice he had. To simply go along and let things play out… or…

"Good luck, Harry Potter."

It was the last thing he heard, as the man waved his hand, muttering something in an arcane language. A golden whirlpool of energy, of magic, opened and started pulling him in. However much he wanted to stay here and reunite with his parent and Sirius, he could not resist the pull, like he couldn't resist the veil. His presence was sucked in.

When he became aware of himself again, it was the same and yet very different from the void. It was dark. Cold. Unfortunately, there was also pain. It was mainly his back… It felt as if he had fallen from his broom and landed on his back. He opened his eyes. It was still dark, but there was a faint glow of light. The sky was also covered by the small twinkles of stars, so similar to the twin twinkles in Dumbledore's eyes.

Then he heard sounds, quite close by. A swish, a whirring sound and two almost simultaneous thuds. Soft ones.

"What are you doing in my city?" A raspy voice. An almost mean raspy voice. Harry suddenly had a vision of a speaking dementor. It wasn't cold enough here for it to be one.

"I was just dropping by, to visit a friend. You, in other words." This voice was firm, yet soft at the same time. It had a definite non-British ring to it, despite it being perfect English. The voice was deep and rich, and well spoken. A stark contrast with the raspy one.

The young wizard got to his feet, suppressing the groans of pain and weariness that threatened to escape his throat. He turned till he saw two shadows outlined against the faint glow coming from… below? He looked around, seeing vents, pipes, chimneys and over a low concrete wall the outlines of other tall buildings against the night's sky.

He was on a rooftop. And not in Great Britain, either. He hadn't heard of any city in Europe with so many tall building. As his eyes got accustomed to the darkness, he saw such building as far as the eye could see. From his years in Muggle primary school, and the faint snippets of news and so he saw during summer at Privet Drive, he knew there was only one country he could be in. Well two or three really, but in the others, they didn't speak English.

'Great', he thought, 'The United States."

He tuned back into the ongoing conversation of the two shadowed figures. Both were tall. One was hunched, but in an alert way, not a lazy one. Harry was an expert on this. The other one was even taller, and stood proud. Powerful arms and a broad chest were outlined through the cape. In fact, both men were wearing capes. The hunched one also seemed to have two pointy ears. Small ones. So, no overgrown House-Elf at least.

"I don't have friends." The raspy voice again. Apparently it was from the pointy-eared one.

"Bruce, you can't fool me. We are friends. Or at least, I count you as one." Firm voice again. With such a body, no wonder his voice was strong and deep.

"Stop shouting my name off of rooftops, farm boy. Secret identities, remember." The Raspy one sounded quite angry now. Go figure. Well, Harry couldn't blame him really. He would be most annoyed as well if someone shouted his name in Diagon Alley. Still, what would a farm boy be doing on a rooftop, wearing a cape, in the middle of the night? For that matter, why keep a secret identity with pointy ears? He was in the United States, Harry then rationalised to himself.

From a British point of view, that explained everything.

"You are being a grouch again, Bruce. Who could possibly overhear us hear?" It was said with such confidence and with a faint hint of chipper hidden under the strength carried in the voice, that Harry could barely mute his snort.

Busted!

Both men whirled around.

Superman and Batman had a long going semi-friendship, as fellow crime fighters. It was only because of Batman's stubborn and staunch belief in his Mission that excluded him from acknowledging said friendship. However, the two worked together quite often, even if it was merely exchanging information of the numerous villains making life difficult in their cities.

The Man of Steel and the Dark Knight.

One was pure and raw power. He was stronger than even most forces of nature. The other was the pinnacle of human skill and inventiveness. He worked through stealth, through talent and through sheer intelligence and was known as the greatest detective in the world. One was Light, empowered by the sun. The other was Dark, working from the shadows and in the night.

Both held the same ideals, however. Truth and Justice. They approached it differently, but both valued life and prevented taking it at all costs. They saved it at all costs, even the highest, most personal one. Both had put their lives on the line, time and again, only to make sure someone else got home safe. Both men were admired by many, counted on even, by many. Of course, what would a good hero be without those that didn't like them? Both had adversaries, in the forms of villains, but also in the form of officials. It was inevitable. But a burden they gladly carried for the betterment of the world.

It was the foundation of their friendship. Even if one of them called it that. They had worked together and gotten to know each other. Despite being almost polar opposites. In fact, it made working together more effective, as both complemented each other's strengths.

Even in daily life, when not disguised and fighting crime, they were opposites. One was a farm boy, working as a shy, bumbling reporter, underpaid, at a famous newspaper. The other was a flamboyant playboy, a billionaire, a celebrity. This so called real life of both men, was also a cover. Not real… an elaborate act to make sure their names were never connected to their night jobs.

Only a few people knew the men hiding behind both masks. Clark Kent had his parents and a bestfriend from High School. Only his mother was still alive and knew his secret. Bruce Wayne had his butler, he chairman of the board of directors and his best friend. His best friend, too, had died. Both were women. Both were killed. Killed by the enemies of the men. And neither could forgive himself for that.

Chloe Sullivan and Rachel Dawes. Both were women with the same values as 'their' men. Both had paid for it with their lives. Both had shaped the men into what they were now. Through their lives, but also their deaths. It was why both men wore two masks now. They couldn't let anyone else close. No one should pay that price anymore… not for them. That is why they kept each other company, why they needed this friendship. They had little else.

Neither of then was willing to give up though. Their deeds were already the stuff of legends. They had saved so many lives. It made it worth it. Even when despair took hold of them, in the few hours of sleep they had, the thought of having saved a life just before chased the despair away, replacing it with determination every time. Their determination had set an example. Others were following their paths, or so the rumours said. There was a man as fast as light. People called him the Flash. There was a vigilante that had chosen the Robin Hood theme, instead of dressing like a bat. He was called the Green Arrow. Others popped up as well, from time to time, though they did not have names yet.

The Last Son of Krypton and the Prince of Gotham stood side by side on the rooftop, talking, bantering like they always did. Even Bruce, while unwilling to admit it, enjoyed this friendship. It chased away the loneliness their lives brought them. Till they were interrupted by a snort. Only the Kryptonian heard it, but the Batman was alert, and whirled around at the first twitch of the blue clad superhero.

What they saw was a surprise. Instead of a villain, they saw a young man, a boy really. He wore a black bathrobe. On his breast, there was a small badge, of a golden lion on a red background. And from where the bathrobe opened, a red and golden tie peeked through. The boy had short-ish black hair, peaking in every direction, giving a messy outlook. But more noticeable were his young almost aristocratic features, his penetrating emerald eyes, hidden behind round black rimmed glasses and an angry red lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. His face was barely hiding a smile… something not to the Batman's liking.

In a flash of movement, a Batarang was in Bruce's hand, ready to throw at the merest hint of danger. Superman merely placed his fists on his hips. At the sight of the Batarang, the young man moved equally fast, drawing a thing, carved wooden stick from seemingly nowhere. He held it loosely in his right hand, but to Batman's trained eyes, he could see he would be able to point it and do… something with it, before his Batarang would hit him.

"Who are you?" He growled in his raspy voice.

He took in the two figures. Really! If he hadn't spent so much time in the odd-looking Wizarding World, he would have burst out laughing right this instant. The strong voiced one wore a skin tight blue outfit, with red underpants on the outside. A golden belt and a red-golden symbol on his chest. A Pentagram displaying an ornate S. Added to that was the red cape and the odd little curl in his otherwise slicked back hair. The raspy voiced one was dressed in some kind of dark armour. But it seemed more rubberlike than metal. He wore some kind of tool belt with lots of unrecognizable gizmos attached to it. His mask was odd and also black, with the pointy ears. On his chest was a stylized black bat. That explained the mask at least.

Then, the bat guy pulled a sort of boomerang, with sharp edges from his belt in a lightning fast move. Harry reacted immediately, pulling his wand, but no yet aiming it. A spell was on the tip of his tongue. He was startled a little by the growled question. Suddenly, the words of the other blue dressed, caped guy came to mind. If that one was powerful enough to send him to a different universe, than he supposed he should heed the advice.

"I am Harry Potter. And you?"

Batman inwardly groaned. Another British speaking person in his life! And one that was awfully chipper, while pointing something at two of the most feared and revered men in the world. Feared when faced in combat, that is. Clark, the boy scout, answered, honestly at that.

"I am Superman, and this is Batman."

Author's notes: Read my profile for relevant information. Irrelevant questions will only be answered by reading the rest of the story. I can't give everything away yet.


	2. Submerging

**Chapter One: ****Submerging**

The three men stood in silence. Two men and a boy more exactly. But in his eyes, both men saw what they saw in the mirror every day since they had lost their best friends. Something that made the boy count as a man, despite not being of age. It was the look of loss, the look of a burden. A look they knew too well, one that drove them to be the men they were today, to prevent that look from being in someone else's eyes as well.

It was this look that mellowed Batman's heart just enough to not distrust the boy immediately. Yet, the detective in him needed information. The reporter in his companion was also curious, but he was too much of a boy scout to ask such things without being provoked.

"What are you doing here?" The raspy voice was softer, but still spoke of a hidden strength, as well as a lot of caution.

Before the young mage could answer, however, a loud explosion drew their attention. It was quite close by, at a nearby bank. In mere moments, the two heroes turned and jumped of the rooftop, in the direction of the blazing fire. Sirens started blaring, as Harry ran to the edge of the roof. The Batman seemed to be floating down, his cape spread like the wings of a bat. Superman however, was levitating straight down, at an incredible speed, faster, yet more controlled than falling.

He was up so high, he quickly lost sight, so he started running down the fire escape, something inside him urging him to join the two oddly clad people. Maybe it was his saving people thing, and he was simply drawn to the explosion. Or it was his Gryffindor courage… more like recklessness.

Superman stopped 'falling', floating about twenty foot above the ground, surveying the situation. He knew Bruce would not appreciate it if he rushed in. And his friend had Kryptonite to back it up. Batman dived down, his cape fluttering, as a swayed, banking and turning, spiralling down, till he landed on the roof of the entranceway to the bank. The explosion had happened just to the left of it, and the fire was growing.

Harry was far behind, but intent on following. He tried to keep his eyes on the scene as well as possible, quite impressed at the skills and powers displayed by the twosome. Then, in a manoeuvre reminiscent of his Quidditch playing, the wizard jumped of the fire escape stairs, and grasped a tall vertical pole. He slid down rapidly, and in seconds, he touched the concrete in the alley. His hands were burning lightly, though, but adrenaline made him ignore it as he now exited the alley, and tried to approach the bank without drawing to much attention to himself. He could have used his Invisibility cloak about now.

***

Sneaking over the roof of the bank, Batman found one of the exhaust vents and crawled in it smoothly. After his rigorous training as a ninja, acrobatics were one of his most important skills, only hindered a bit by his heavy armour. He moved through the ventilation shafts, till he came across a roster that gave him a view of things inside the bank.

He was treated to the most unpleasant sight of Harvey Dent, alias Two-Face, laughing madly, a smoking cigar in one had, an equally smoking gun in the other. His thugs were all around him, dragging bags of cash with them and placing more explosives, while holding the night guards hostage.

The Dark Knight had a full complement of Batarangs and all his other gizmos. Slowly, he crept out of the vent, keeping to the shadows, playing to his strengths. Then, the sirens of the approaching police cars blared through the night, making the thugs twitchy. Their guns were all at the ready, and the more inexperienced ones were aiming at the four hostages.

Then, chaos broke out, as one of the nervous men fired a shot outside, at the approaching police officers. Cursing, Harvey shot the trigger happy thug, while the others all went to full alert and activated the bombs. Clark smashed in through the wall, going immediately for the hostage at top speed. Batman shot his grapple and swung down, three metal bats whirling through the air before his feet touched the ground. Two disarmed some thugs painfully, the other one exploded in thick smoke, giving cover to the superheroes and the hostages.

The Dark Knight engaged the criminals, his fighting style perfect and brutal at the same time. He twirled between the thugs, hitting, kicking, ducking and spinning, as one after the other was disarmed and dropped to the floor. A few opened fire… bullets bounced off or flattened against the blue and red-clad superhero. Smoke from the Batarang mixed with the smoke of the fire.

A deep breath.

A rush of frosty air.

The smoke cleared, revealing a put out fire, and most of the robbers unconscious on the floor. Two-face, however, was running and slipped out through an emergency exit. Both heroes made to follow, but a beep from the bomb drew their attention. The timer was counting down… only ten seconds to go. Too little to disarm it, even for the Man of Steel. Nodding at each other in unspoken agreement, Superman dove for the bomb, grabbing it and flying straight up, through the roof.

He kept ascending till the night's sky was lit in a flash of fire, the bomb, in Clark's hands exploding high above the city's skyline.

Meanwhile, Bruce was pursuing one of his enemies, through the emergency exit. Racing through the long hallway, they ended up in an alley. Harvey was far ahead of his adversary, and had almost reached his getaway car. He was stopped however, as a black-clad figure appeared from the shadow, a wooden stick pointed at the criminal's chest.

***

When Harry reached the bank, he crawled up a dumpster, intending to reach a window. He wanted to get inside the bank as well. But as he reached the window, he could only look on in awe. Not only did they look like the comic book heroes Dudley had been raving about when he was younger , they actually fought like that. Superpowers, special tools and weapons… it was like watching a movie. Not that he had much experience with that.

The fight was over before he could even think on how to get in. But then he saw the ugly looking guy slip away. He jumped off of the dumpster, intent on helping out at least a little. He was in the alley besides the bank, when a door not too far away slammed open, the armed, burned villain rushing out, towards a car that was behind Harry.

When the half-human, half-something criminal approached, Harry positioned himself in front of him, wand out and aimed. He saw the Batman rushing out of the same door, too, so, he knew he had back up at least, should he be in over his head. Yet, he was not afraid to show his abilities, as the two disguised heroes openly showed them as well.

Harvey aimed his gun at the young wizard, but before he could even think of pulling the trigger, Harry spoke the incantation that had saved his life before.

"_Expelliarmus"_

A red bolt flew from his wand, slamming into his enemy's chest. The gun was torn from his hand, arcing through the hair into the free hand of the teenager. The villain in question was blasted backwards from the force of the spell. He fell to the ground, hard, many feet down the alleyway, close to where Batman had come to a standstill, observing the short battle. To say he was shocked was an understatement.

The bolt of red light was swiftly followed by a similar, yet different looking red spell, accompanied by the incantation, "_Stupefy."_

To end things nicely, Harry conjured thick ropes with the_ Incarcerous_ spell, binding the villain nice and tight. The pursuing and the fight had only taken moments, as just as he lowered his wand, the sky lit up from the explosion. The following silence was only broken by the stumbling sound of approaching police officers.

Batman approached the wizard, gripped him tight, while launching a grapple straight up. The world blurred, stomachs sank in the rush of speed and mere moments later, the two dark clad figures stood upon a rooftop, where they were shortly joined by the Man of Steel.

The question of who he was, was clearly visible on their faces. One of their faces at least. The Batman's mask obscured most of it. But Harry had enough experience reading people. Greasy Potions Masters, strict teachers, ignoring Headmasters, plotting students and Death Eaters… the list went on and on.

It was time for some explanations. So Harry did, something making him trust the two heroes, especially the red and blue-clad Superman. He told the twosome about the highpoints of his life, the difficulties caused by Voldemort, and the people in the void sending him here to prepare for his Destiny.

He had expected the two men to be surprised. It was him who was surprised, though, as they took the story like every day's business. He didn't know that things like this were actually every day business for the two. They recognized a lot of themselves in the young men. Torn away from his family, heavily burdened and already more experience in matters of life and death than they wished on anyone.

They both even knew about Destiny. One urged to follow it by a former mentor, turned enemy, the other by the artificial representation of his biological father. Another glance at each other, they silently agreed again. They would help.

"I think a more covert place would be preferably to discuss all this better and to inform you", Clark told the young wizard. Batman tapped a button on one of the little things on his belt. A whirring sound approached, like a muted motorcycle. They looked over the edge of the roof and Harry noticed a large black car approaching. It looked bigger than any car he had ever seen. Bigger, yet possessing a sleekness that seemed to contradict the bulk of the massive car.

Another tap, and the roof slid open, revealing two seats next to each other. Confused, he looked at Batman, who just showed his lips twitching the faintest bit, before he jumped of the roof. He cape whirled in the wind as he fell, before he landed smoothly in the driver's seat. Harry wasn't too sure about jumping this far down, but Superman grabbed his arms and levitated down as well, placing the wizard on the second seat, before speeding of with a loud whoosh.

The roof of the car closed, and as Harry took in the numerous controls and computer screens, Batman revved the engine, before the car began moving. At a high speed, the Dark Knight deftly manoeuvred the car through the streets of the dark, almost gothic city. Near the edge of the city, he sped up, straight into the forest, rushing over small paths, till he raced straight at a waterfall.

Harry was not the easily scared type, but a curse was on his lips, his hands gripping the armrests as the engine suddenly blasted, sending the car jumping through the falling water. Lurching and slipping to a standstill, the roof slid open, revealing a dark… cave?

***

Despite the distrust Bruce Wayne usually felt for everyone, both heroes trusted the young boy for some reason. Added to that was that they definitely recognized the role Dr. Fate played in this matter. Both men had encountered the mystic several times. And now, he had delivered this boy, no this young man to them, for a reason.

They took seats around the terminal in the Batcave. Facing each other, Superman took the lead and informed Harry about this world and the roles the two heroes played, as well as the generally known facts about them. However, they wouldn't be able to keep their secrets from the young wizard for long, as he was obviously a minor and needed a guardian, a place to live, schooling and so on. Not to mention that they would have to train him.

Bruce, an orphan after his parents were murdered himself, suddenly spoke, when Superman fell silent after explaining about Krypton. The raspy quality in his voice dropped, as he said, "I will take you in and train you. Superman's skills can't be taught, after all, and I have more resources to slip you into this world, so to speak."

Both Harry and Clark looked in surprise at the Dark Knight. For different reasons, though. Clark had not expected his stoic friend to make such an offer, as it obviously meant giving up secrecy, as well as getting close to someone. Harry, on the other hand, was quite unfamiliar with anyone simply offering a home, and training. He was pleased, though, as he definitely saw the benefits of being trained by someone so good at fighting. Voldemort wouldn't know what had hit him!

***

Two weeks later, Harry was doing push ups, as part of his daily exercise regime. Every day, his mentor added five more of each. Crunches, push ups, pull ups and sit ups. Added to that was a daily run of five miles, followed by several sprints. Upon his first tests, the remarks from his mentor had been scathing. He was too skinny, too out of condition and too weak. Granted, his body was built for speed and he had amazing reflexes, but a lack of stamina and strength would be deadly in a fight.

Learning the identities of the two heroes had not been a particular surprise, as he knew neither of them. But to learn his new guardian was a billionaire was cause of some excitement. Harry had always lived from second hand things, clothes and due to the Dursleys, mainly lived in poverty. Now, he had his own, large bedroom in a gigantic mansion. His room was connected to a study, which contained a brand new computer system and lots of other electronic devices that were a 'must' for teenage students. Not that the wizards knew how to use anything besides the most basic ones, like a television.

He got good, filling meals, made by the butler, Alfred, also a Brit. The man had the typical English sense of dry humour. Often, Bruce was heard muttering about teaming up on him when striding away after a successful humorous barb by either of the two Brits. Young Master Harry, as Alfred called him, was restricted to the mansion and the grounds, till his identity was established.

Till that moment, his days existed of eating, exercising and being tutored by Alfred. His non-magical education was poor, as it had stopped after primary school. Whatever he intended to do in this new world, he wouldn't get anywhere without being brought up to speed. Harry hated studying. He hated books even more. He was a typical practical person. He excelled at duelling, exercising, flying and other similar things because it was hands on and he saw the use for it. English literature, and the mathematical principles unfortunately lacked that quality in the wizard's eyes, just like the theory behind any kind of magic did at Hogwarts.

After his exercises, he also practiced his spells. Learning new spells was impossible now, without his books, but his repertoire of combat worthy spells was quite impressive for a wizard his age. In fourth year, Hermione had pumped many hexes, curses, jinxes and charms in his head in preparation for the Third Task. Fifth year had given him a lot of practice, but he also studied more spells for duelling, with the D.A. in mind. Last but not least, while studying for OWLs, his bushy haired friend had not relented till Both him and Ron knew the material till her satisfaction. As a result, his transfiguration and his charms were up to par as well. His magical training now existed in accuracy training mostly. Bruce agreed this was a good practice, for it would be useful for his other training as well.

Over the two weeks since his arrival, there was not much improvement noticeable, but Harry didn't give up. One day, when he came back from his run on the grounds surrounding the mansion, sweaty, his shirt clinging to his body, the billionaire was awaiting him. The stoic, introvert man guided him inside and started talking.

"It is arranged", he announced. "Your identity is finally completely added to all databases and archives. You are Harry James Potter, still, son of the recently deceased James and Lily Potter. I met all of you while travelling the world. Part of it we did together. I befriended you parents. When they died in a car accident in China, it was discovered they had appointed me as a possible guardian for you in their will. You have no other relatives, and your parents elected me because they were too estranged from their other acquaintances. They were well-off and just travelled around the world, with you."

The story was sound, though not all that common. Compared to an heir disappearing, travelling the world, being declared dead and then fighting crime dressed as a bit, it sounded normal enough, Harry supposed. "Thank you, sir."

And that was it, his life had been arranged. As it was still only halfway June, He didn't have to worry too much about school yet, as it would be starting somewhere in September. He needed the time to catch up with his peers. He only hoped his personal training with Bruce would start soon.


	3. Author's notification

Author's Notice:

I am slowly reworking this crossover fanfiction and have posted an entirely renewed prologue under the title: _A Different League_, accessible via my profile.

I can't make any promises on update speed, seeing as I have many thing occupying my time, like studies and work. Still, some feedback on the new prologue might motivate me to actually work further on the story.

I hope you enjoy!


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